A vast indifference settled down upon him. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. That is so like you, Diana—Pallas Athene! (Pallas Athene is better.
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